


5, 4, 3, 2, 1

by hyacinthsfics



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Akakuro - Freeform, Angst, Bokuaka - Freeform, Day 1, KuroAka - Freeform, M/M, Multi, OT3 Week, Polyamory, Zombie AU, bokuakakuro - Freeform, bokukuro - Freeform, post-apocalyptic world
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-11
Updated: 2017-05-11
Packaged: 2018-10-30 13:32:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10877805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hyacinthsfics/pseuds/hyacinthsfics
Summary: Kuroo knows Bokuto isn't going to make it. Akaashi doesn't seem to think the same.





	5, 4, 3, 2, 1

**Author's Note:**

> listen to the song it'll make it like 10x more effective you will cry

  - ship: bokuakakuro  
  - prompt: lust | ~~spring has sprung~~ | red  
  - word count: 1,906  
  - a/n: angst.  
  - song inspiration: murder song (5, 4, 3, 2, 1,) - acoustic by AURORA

  It's still as the night in the stuffy room, and Kuroo's head aches from the humidity - courtesy to the birth of spring - and the pure smell of rot. He tosses the thought to the back of his mind, as it isn't important - never will be - and continues to watch Akaashi's delicate fingers dip a towel into the bucket of water, wring it, and press it to Bokuto's forehead. Akaashi smiles at Bokuto, stunning and sweet, and Bokuto attempts one back, his golden eyes flickering to Kuroo's still figure in the corner of the room. His eyes communicate his words for him: _You have to tell Akaashi_. And Kuroo _knows_ he has to tell Akaashi, but a part of him wants Akaashi to hold onto the childish hope that Bokuto will live through this and he'll be fine.

  "Are you thirsty, Bokuto-san?" Akaashi inquires, reaching out to swipe his thumb gently against Bokuto's clammy and pale cheek. Bokuto nods and Akaashi brings a water bottle to his chapped and trembling lips, letting him drink slowly.

  "Thank you," Bokuto whispers and Kuroo's eyes flicker to the gun on the floor next to him. His eyes look up to catch Bokuto's gaze, and he knows Bokuto knows what's running through his mind. His eyes seem to convey the thought: _Do it_.He's suffering, Kuroo realizes. He's in pain, he can feel himself rotting on the inside. Kuroo' heart aches and his eyes burn, but he swallows the lump in his throat and stands, slightly brushing the curtain from the window to get a look at the outside.

  There's a dead body on the ground, staining the yellow untamed grass black and red. Kuroo remembers firing seven shots, anger and terror and everything of the sort clouding his vision. Akaashi had the mind to pick Bokuto up, get him inside, and douse the bite with as much alcohol and peroxide as they had. Kuroo's eyes flicker back to Bokuto, instantly falling to the indentions in the shape of teeth that had turned his forearm an ugly pattern of green and black. Akaashi has to know his makeshift infection prevention didn't work, it never will, there isn't a cure - there never will be.

They have a few hours left - maybe. Bokuto's silent pleas to just end it might tell otherwise. After all, Bokuto would know what was happening inside his own body better than anyone else. Kuroo feels pity, above all else, pity for Bokuto, pity for what he's suffering, pity that he can't tell Akaashi to just leave. Bokuto is too kind for that - even in the midst of an apocalypse, he's still kindhearted and considerate. Kuroo wishes he hadn't hardened since all of this started, and he knows this last blow will send Akaashi down a spiral of depression. He's not quite sure how the both of them will handle it.

Kuroo watches Akaashi realize the bucket is dirty and he needs more water, and Kuroo himself realizes that the moment Akaashi leaves to get more, he can turn the safety off of the gun and-

"I'll be back," Akaashi murmurs, his thumbs running along Bokuto's cheekbones, giving him  
a soft smile, before he's up and out of the room.

The room is quite for all but a few seconds, before Bokuto is begging Kuroo: "Please, Kuroo, it _hurts_ ," he cries out, dropping his hopeful, lighthearted façade. "I know you don't want to, but please, please, just fucking _shoot_ me."

Kuroo flinches, but grabs the gun regardless. He stares at it, makes sure it's loaded, and turns to Bokuto with burning eyes. Kuroo drops to his knees at Bokuto's bedside, placing the gun beside him. He cups Bokuto's face in his hands, his bottom lip wobbling as tears blur his eyesight. Bokuto gives him a soft, pain-filled smile, and Kuroo understands it's worse to let him live like this than to just get it over with.

"I love you," Kuroo chokes out, watching Bokuto's eyes get more and more distant as time goes on. "Bokuto, I love you so much."

"I know," Bokuto whispers. "Which is why you have to do this."

"I know," Kuroo repeats Bokuto's words, a hand reaching up to comb through Bokuto's hair. The white streaks had long since faded, leaving Bokuto with a head of black tufts.

"You don't want to do it because of Akaashi," Bokuto reveals and Kuroo swallows the lump in his throat. "You've accepted it, haven't you?" Kuroo doesn't respond, because he knows Bokuto knows the answer. "We don't have long, Kuroo. Akaashi will be back any moment."

"You want him to walk in on his best friend and the love of his life dead?" Kuroo inquires and he knows he's being selfish by saying that. Bokuto's eyes are heavy with sorrow, and Kuroo didn't even realize how bad this was hurting him. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I'm sorry I let this happen to you, I-"

"Kuroo," Bokuto coaxes, a timid smile on his face. "Don't be sorry. It was unavoidable. I've accepted all of this, okay? Don't blame yourself - don't let Akaashi blame himself. You've gotta take care of him, y'know?"

"I know. I will, I promise," Kuroo claims, pressing his forehead against Bokuto's.

"I like to believe that even after all of this...God still exists," Bokuto admits, his eyes shifting between Kuroo's. Some spots in his eyes are clouded by a white film, and Kuroo realizes there's barely any time left. "So, I'll see you again. I know I will. Just not too soon," Bokuto attempts to crack a joke, but his voice is slowly dying as he talks. "I love you, Kuroo. Tell Akaashi I love him. I love you both so much, with everything I had," Bokuto whispers, tears filling his eyes. Kuroo can tell he's in pain, so much pain, so he stands. He grabs the gun, makes sure it's loaded. The safely is still on, and he doesn't know if his shaking fingers have the strength to turn it off.

"I'm so sorry," Kuroo chokes out, as if Bokuto even thinks he's to blame, but he can't find anything else to say to express his absolute devastation.

"Don't apologize. Just...count down, yeah?" Bokuto asks and Kuroo nods, putting the gun up, and it's pointed so that the bullet will pierce Bokuto's head. "Don't miss me too much," Bokuto says with a weak smile, and Kuroo let's out a sob half mixed with a laugh. "I love you. You made me so happy, Kuroo...You and Akaashi. Even with this s-stupid apocalypse, you've made me...so fucking h-happy." Kuroo realizes Bokuto is crying. He doesn't want this - this isn't the way he imagined his life going. He wanted to go to college, play volleyball until his knees gave out, or something. He hasn't touched a volleyball in so long. He misses it. "Please, just do it, Kuroo." Bokuto's eyes are covered with a white film. There's no time - his skin is turning an ugly yellow and the blood rotting in in his veins makes them look black.

Kuroo's finger goes to switch off the safety.

He doesn't get to.

"What are you doing?!" Akaashi cries, dropping the bucket of water and running at Kuroo, trying to slap the gun out of his hand. "Stop! Stop, Kuroo, what are you doing?!"

Bokuto's eyes are begging him to just pull the goddamn trigger. He's in so much pain, he's suffering, he doesn't have long and he knows it. Kuroo repeats those words in his head.

"Stop! Put the gun down! Stop! We're gonna help him! He's g-gonna get better, Kuroo, please, just stop!" Akaashi demands, his voice cracking as tears run down his cheeks, desperately clawing at Kuroo's hand, trying to get him to just drop the gun. "Stop! Bokuto, tell him to stop!" Kuroo sees Bokuto mouth the word: _Please_.

Kuroo pulls Akaashi to his chest, knowing he's far stronger than the male in front of him. He clicks the safety off as Akaashi sobs against his chest.

"Five," Kuroo murmurs, and Bokuto closes his golden eyes. "Four." Akaashi heart-wrenchingly sobs into Kuroo's shirt. "Three." Akaashi whimpers, "Please, don't." "Two." Kuroo takes a deep breath and steadies his hand. "One."

Akaashi flinches as a gunshot rings out, before he completely breaks down, screaming and crying against Kuroo's chest. Kuroo turns the safety on and drops the gun, wrapping his arms around Akaashi and pressing his nose into the junction of Akaashi's neck and shoulder. Akaashi doesn't stop screaming until his voice is hoarse, and even still, sobs leave his throat mercilessly, clenching onto Kuroo's shirt tightly.

"I'm sorry," Kuroo whimpers. "I'm so sorry, Akaashi."

\---

  Akaashi doesn't speak. Doesn't move on his own accord. Doesn't look up.

  Even when Kuroo places him on the couch. Even when Kuroo gathers all of their stuff and loads it into their backpacks. Even when Kuroo sits him in the backyard. Even when Kuroo wastes their last gallon of gasoline on the room where Bokuto's blood stains the wall, on the hallway, on the house. Even when Kuroo lights a match and drops it to the gasoline trail. Even when Kuroo leads him to the lake that's a few minutes away from the house. Even when Kuroo undresses him and carries him into the lake and washes his hair and body with the little bit of soap they had left. Even when Kuroo dries him off with a towel.

  They walk for a few hours, into a new neighborhood and find a house there. Kuroo tucks him into a bed and crawls in next to him.

  Kuroo wakes up every couple of hours to Akaashi's screams, and all he can bring himself to do is pull Akaashi closer and whisper sweet things to him. Akaashi digs his nails into Kuroo's shirt, whispers Bokuto's name over and over again, clenches his eyes shut as if to keep the real world at bay.

  "I'm sorry, 'Kaashi," Kuroo whispers, pressing kisses to Akaashi's forehead. "I'm so sorry."

  Akaashi doesn't respond - Kuroo didn't expect him to. He sinks back into unconsciousness, leaving the room silent save for his quiet breathing. Kuroo sighs and gently brushes Akaashi's hair back from his forehead, watching the way his eyelashes flutter against his cheekbones.

  Kuroo's eyes flicker to the picture frame on the nightstand that he placed when they first settled into the house. It's a small collage of Polaroids Kenma had taken. There's four: one is of Akaashi, Bokuto, and Kuroo all smiley and sweaty after a match - Fukurodani had won and advanced; the second had Bokuto in the middle, both Akaashi and Kuroo kissing his cheeks; the third is them in their bathing suits after a day at the beach; the fourth is of them on their one year anniversary, all dressed up in suits and ties.

  Kuroo's hand reaches out to brush his fingertips against Bokuto's face in the fourth picture. Words resonate in his head: " _You've gotta take care of him, y'know?_ " Kuroo's eyes flicker down to Akaashi's sleeping figure, sadness and regret weighing down on his chest.

  He'll take care of Akaashi until the day he stops breathing, he still would've even if he hadn't promised Bokuto. His mind flickers back to the black and red blood on the walls, and tears well up in his eyes.

  Who was going to take care of him?


End file.
